Ace of Spades Edits

Speak up, I know you hate me!!!

1 month ago | [YT] | 1

Ace of Spades Edits

For ‪@Telemarketing-PrinceofIthaca‬ this is part 2 for your writing comp. I am so sorry it ended up being this long, I couldn't figure out how to shorten it more, hopefully it's not a drag to read

Piper always knew when she’d find him up there. Sitting on the ledge of the roof, watching as the stars slowly travelled over the desert surrounding the concrete island that was the Wilderness school. She couldn’t explain how. Perhaps it was some sixth sense that came from being best friends.
It still made her smile. Best friends. She’d had friends before, yes. But none really stuck around after they’d been to a party and gotten photos with Tristan McLean. Who would want to hang out with a trouble maker?
Only another trouble maker, obviously.
And Leo was by far the best trouble maker Piper had ever had the joy of meeting. He was hilarious, and always had a supply of pranks set up, ready to go at a moments notice. Piper had never been excited to wake up every morning, until she found her reason to do so. And in the time she’d known Leo, she could see it was the same for him, the way his eye bags slowly disappeared as he slept easier, the way each day he seemed just a little more energetic, his smile a little larger.
Some days were always harder, of course. And on those nights he’d retreat onto the roof where he could feel like he had a semblance of control, as if he was here of his own volition, not forced because no one wanted him. His words, not hers.
Leo flinched when Piper went to place an arm around his shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ she said, instantly moving away a little. ‘No physical contact?’ Leo shook his head. Sometimes it was like that for Leo. He wasn’t one to be overtly physical with anyone, but sometimes he couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone. Piper assumed it had something to do with his mum. The boy had always skirted around the topic of family, but other students said he’d killed her. Piper didn’t believe that, but sometimes she wondered if Leo did.
Leo let out a long slow breath. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to.’
‘Don’t be silly. I will always sit with you, I want to spend time with you. You make me happy.’
‘Not right now,’ he said blithely. ‘Right now I make you worried and sad.’
‘Maybe a little,’ Piper conceded. ‘But I still want to be with you. I don’t want you to be alone.’
Leo closed his eyes, tilting his face up to the sky, where the glistening light highlighted old tear streaks along his cheeks. ‘I’m always alone.’
‘You don’t have to be.’ Piper said gently. ‘You never have to be alone, not again. You have me, and I will never leave you.’
Leo gave no indication he believed her. Piper shuffled closer to him, letting her legs dangle off the side. She spat into her palm, holding it out to Leo’s confused gaze.
‘I, Piper McLean, hereby swear to never leave you, Leo Valdez, alone. You are, and will always be, my best friend.’
A small smile broke onto Leo’s face, as he spat into his palm to return her handshake. ‘You too,’ he whispered.
Moments later, he’d shifted closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Piper gently took his hand, watching his face for any signs of discomfort.
The endless sand of the desert stretched out before them, right into the dark horizon, blurring the earth and sky together. The pair watched as the stars began their downward arc, taking in the silence, the time to just be themselves together.
And if tomorrow, Piper found herself holding hands with a blond boy, nothing would change her love for Leo.
It was just them against the world.

I am so sorry for how long this is, it kind of got away from me. There’s so much I want to write about their friendship, but some scenes just weren’t flowing. Maybe one day I’ll finish them. Also, a note on the end, the idea of Leo struggling with physical touch is a bit of a hc of mine, which comes from the idea that he feels like it’s his fault that his mum’s gone, and so he avoids letting people get near him for fear of hurting them or being awkward. I just think he’s the sort of person to hug someone and then spend the next 24 hours spiralling over whether he hugged them the wrong way. Or I could be projecting lol.

6 months ago | [YT] | 1

Ace of Spades Edits

For ‪@Telemarketing-PrinceofIthaca‬ writing comp round 2! This is part 1 of 2 bc it's too long for one post, I am so sorry 😭 (also, tysm for you compliments on my previous writing, it means the world to me)

‘Hi’. Was all the note said. Just that one word on a bright blue sticky note, scrawled in messy handwriting from a pen that seemed to be running out, if the repetitive lines of the H were anything to go by.
‘Where’d you get that?’ Andrea asked, her curly hair almost dipping into her congealed porridge as she leant across the table towards Piper.
‘It was under the table.’ Piper responded, slightly dumbfounded.
Andrea nodded as though this was perfectly reasonable and leant back in her chair, picking up the cardboard spoon that was already disintegrating. ‘One of the kids from the other group must have left it. There’s been a few try to communicate over the years. Usually they get caught though. I’d be careful if I was you, you don’t wanna get into unnecessary trouble.’ Piper thought that was ironic coming from Andrea, who was the person responsible for the implementation of cardboard cutlery in place of the previous bamboo. Nonetheless, she nodded at the other girls’ advice.
‘Aren’t the kids from the other group supposed to be… I don’t know, dangerous?’ In the short time since Piper had been hauled off to the wilderness school, she’d heard rumours about the other group. Group B, her group was full of the children who stole, runaway one too many times, even some who were mildly involved in gangs. Basically they were all very PG. But Group A… those kids were there for arson, assault. One was said to be there for murder.
‘Probably. I think it’s all just rumours the teachers make up. I reckon they’re all like you and me, but they want us to fear each other. Delinquents who fear one another are less likely to team up to escape, right? That’s why they have us into two groups,’ Andrea rolled her eyes as though it was in some way inconvenient to her.
‘Should I write back?’ Piper asked, turning the paper over in her hand, as if hoping it would provide more evidence. But it was just the single word.
Andrea shrugged. ‘You’ve got free will, girl. But be it on your head if Coach finds out.’
Piper pondered that until the end of breakfast, when she hurriedly placed the note back in its place with three new words. Hi. I’m Piper.

*

It had been two weeks since Piper first found the note, and she and Leo, as he’d introduced himself, continued to communicate in this way every meal. Eventually they’d run out of room on the sticky note and whoever’s turn it was would give a new one. Piper had been immensely amused at Leo’s confusion about her gingerbread men shaped ones, and desperately wished she could see his expression.
Which is what led her to today, where she was going to get detention. Groups A and B were separated not only for meals, but for classes. So while Group A might doing maths, Group B would find themselves in a geography classroom. However, the one time kids from either Group could see one another was detention, when the kids were sat into one room together given various tasks to work on. Or so Piper had heard, she’d never been herself.
However, from what little she managed to learn about Leo through the notes system was that he was in detention almost everyday. He was also definitely Spanish, if his exclamation of ¡Dios míos! in response to her story of shoving a girl out the window was anything to go by.
Hopefully with that little knowledge she could recognise him in the detention room.
It turned out, however, that getting sent to detention in the Wilderness School was surprisingly difficult. ‘Forgetting’ to turn in her maths homework had just given her a warning. Joining in the gang of kids shoving another student into a locker had gotten her an eye roll and a lecture of ‘find a better crowd’ before she was sent off to lunch as normal. Even flinging food across the cafeteria had only gotten her as far as cleaning duty for a month.
And so Piper found herself kneeling on the floor outside Miss Chanev’s room. The older woman taught history, though her accent made it difficult to understand, and Piper highly doubted she taught American history correctly. Miss Chanev had admitted to not even knowing who Alexander Hamilton was, as if there wasn’t a whole musical about him.
Piper had been trying to pick the lock for a solid ten minutes now. Swiping the paper clips from the English teacher had been far easier than it should have, considering how much damage the small pieces of metal could do in capable hands. She’d learned to pick locks around five months ago, after going on a joyride with a school friend and the pair had been locked out of Piper’s house upon their return. And of course, that had to be the one night of the year her father was home. Naturally, his reaction was to send her off to school, rather than talk to her.
Piper had kind of thought someone would walk by now to tell her off for attempting to invade a teachers office. If she’d known she’d be kneeling for so long she would have worn her sweat pants that at least had some padding on the knees. About two minutes ago she’d even given up pretending to pick the lock and actually begun to. And now, the last pin fell in place and she rotated the handle. No bother, being found inside the office would be just as good.
The door was wrenched out of her hands and Piper fell flat onto the ground.
‘Piper McLean, just what were you doing?’ An accented voice roared.
Piper glanced up at Miss Chanev, a smile creeping across her face. ‘Breaking in?’
‘Detention,’ Miss Chanev waved Piper up then grabbed a chunk of the girl’s brown hair to drag her down the hall.
She finally dropped Pipers hair when they stood outside a door Piper had never seen before. Miss Chanev didn’t even knock, just opened the door, shoved Piper in, and slammed it behind her.
Piper was left stunned, not only by the rushed actions but by the silence of the room. Even under the strict eye of their maths teacher Piper’s class was never this silent. The only sound punctuating the still air was the rhythmic tapping of a pen against a person’s forehead. Piper glanced around and found the culprit to be a bow with tanned skin and curly hair. Whereas most of the other students had barely glanced at her before continuing what they were doing (mostly drawing in the margins from the few papers’ Piper could see), the boy was leaning dangerously far back, his feet propped up on the table, his heavy boots matching his army style jacket.
‘McLean,’ Coach Hedge’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘Take a seat. Here’s a worksheet.’ The paper he waved at her seemed to be a task to answer five questions in short paragraphs. She resisted the urge to tear it.
‘Can I sit anywhere, Coach?’ She asked.
Hedge rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, I don’t care. Just sit in silence and we’re good.’
Piper was slightly concerned with this statement, but ultimately decided the Coach knew what he was doing. He’d always struck her as slightly odd. One time, when out doing a ten mile march, she swore he’d dropped behind the group of teens for several minutes only to return with what seemed like gold dust on his clothes. He’d looked at her like she was crazy when she asked him about it.
Piper began to make her way through the desks. Upon entering the room, she’d been scanning looking for Leo, but she realised she had no idea what he looked like, and no one had given any indication they recognised her name. She figured she’d start with finding a seat and then try to work out who it was from there.
Most of the kids ignored her. One girl looked up long enough to pull a face. Another boy made a gesture that made Piper’s face twist and she jerked her gaze away. Her eyes landed on the boy in the army jacket.
The pen was still tapping against his forehead. It looked painful, and Piper could actually see the red patch growing on his skin where the plastic repeatedly hit it.
With only a moment’s hesitation, Piper slid into the chair next to him. She put a hand out to catch the pen, admonishing, ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’
Before the boy could respond, Coach shouted, ‘McLean! Shut up!’
Piper grimaced, looking down at her desk as several sets of eyes fell on her. In her distraction, the boy had slid his worksheet onto the desk. Along the top, flowing over the printed words, seemed to be a blueprint of some sort. Piper couldn’t understand any of the scribbled writing.
Underneath it though, was three words. Hi. I’m Leo.
When she’d read it, Leo took the paper back, quickly scribbling something else.
Watch that desk. Piper looked in the direction he indicated. It was the boy who’d she’d ignored earlier. As Piper watched, a thin stream of smoke began to column up from sides. The boy jumped back, and seconds later the entire desk was on fire, his shirt singing from the abrupt heat.
Leo was doubled over laughing, though when Coach questioned him later, he played it off as tears of fright.
Piper left detention that day with a list of ideas on how to land herself there again.

End Part 1

6 months ago | [YT] | 0

Ace of Spades Edits

This is the second video in a week that I think I need to share. Seriously think about this. If I was in my bff's body, I'd be looking in the mirror everyday reminding her how gorgeous and caring she is. Remember to do that for yourselves <3
www.youtube.com/shorts/xNVR3y...

7 months ago | [YT] | 0

Ace of Spades Edits

for ‪@Telemarketing-PrinceofIthaca‬ writing competition! Sorry it's taken a while, I've actually never written fanfiction before, so it took some time. I'm also sorry if it's bad lol, fanfic writing is a little harder than I'd thought. I was writing to Picture You by Chappell Roan with Byler. I'm also super sorry if things are off, I've never officially sat down to watch Stranger Things, so yeah... lol



The room was dim, blinds blocking out the cheery light that was messing with his painting. Although if Will was really being honest, it was just too opposite, as if the outside world was also disgusted at his inner turmoil.
Off to either side of his easel sat a candle, the small orange glow both comforting and gut-churning. Memories of eating pizza around the wooden table, the clinks of dice against one another in the palm of a hand competed with those of screams, dark tendrils reaching towards him, an inability to control his own voice.
Will sucked in a sharp breath, dabbing his paintbrush against the grey on his palette.
Downstairs, El’s voice drifted up to him. He didn’t need to hear her squeal of excitement to know who she was talking to. He called routinely every week. Called her at least.
But that was fine. Best friends. That’s what they were. Best. Friends. Mike was the boy who didn’t give up on Will when he was in the Upside Down. Mike was the reason he was here, alive and safe. Mike didn’t owe him anything. Least of all his —
Will needed to focus. Mike was going to be here in a week and the painting still wasn’t done. He needed it to be finished. It was the least he could do. The only thing he could do, really.
Creative expression, a therapist had told him. A person using an art form to show their emotions to the outside world. It was helpful to put a name to the therapeutic feeling of a paintbrush to paper, helpful to know he wasn’t strange or different, but that he was coping in a healthy manner. Helpful to draw that heart on the centre of Mike’s shield, even if he’d have to come up with an excuse in a weeks time, a reason that was more believable, more acceptable than the truth.
Will crouched closer to the canvas, focusing on the details on his friends face. Though he was careful with all the others too, he desperately wanted, no needed, Mike’s to be perfect. To aide his goal, he’d sat a photo of the group off to his side, glancing back and forth. It was taken after a day at the arcade, he can’t even remember when, but when he stares into the faces he hears distant laughter, loud music and the smell of sweaty arcade controls. He remembers how he felt that day, the desperate desire to prove how good he was at the games, the feeling of Mike’s eyes watching over his shoulder, watching Will win. Until Will had ruined it, and Mike had simply patted his shoulder and moved on to watch Dustin on the next game over.
The photo stood for good times, times before all of it happened. Demogorgons, the Upside Down, Venca, his own emotions. Mike was front and centre, the group crowded around him. Will himself was off to the left, almost out of frame. Out of sight of Mike.
Will steps back to inspect his painting. He clenched the brush in his hand, feeling rough wood in his palm as sticky paint smeared across his fingers. Even in his own painting, one that was supposed to express his emotions, Mike is facing away from him. Will is hidden behind him, out of the frame of Mike’s point of view.
Even his own mind knows it’s not to be.

Edit: Realised the ending got cut out so here's the rest.

But his mind was wrong. Will knew that in his heart. Listening to El on the phone below, if he really focused, he almost imagined he could hear Mike's voice. He could hear Mike's voice, impressed at the painting, thanking him, asking him for the symbolic meaning of the heart.
And Will knew, he would have to be honest. Because how could he be anything but that with the boy he loved? A boy who he knew loved him back.
His best friend. And perhaps, just something more.

7 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 0

Ace of Spades Edits

I think this has a very powerful message... don't change yourself to fit others standards. Love you all <3 www.youtube.com/shorts/VxGimL...

8 months ago | [YT] | 0